Brother of Mine
by lokiMMXII
Summary: "Believe it or not, Mycroft never lied whenever he admitted to worrying about his younger brother." A story that looks at Mycroft's reasons for watching over his younger brother so closely.


Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, not even a little bit.. not even at all.

**Brother of Mine.**

Believe it or not, Mycroft never lied whenever he admitted to worrying about his younger brother.

He knew many people didn't believe him, especially when faced with the methods that he used to... watch out for Sherlock. He had background checks ran on all those that came in close contact with him. He has face recognition linked to CCTV all over London and people constantly tracking his mobile phone. On some occasions he has even had him followed. To some it seems extreme and the level of invasion into Sherlock's life may appear to be almost bordering on hostile. For Mycroft it was the only way he knew how to show his concern.

Mycroft was 7 years old when Sherlock was born, it's quite an age difference. Of course, just like Mycroft, Sherlock was gifted. However Mycroft had spent the first 7 years of his life as an only child, he had adapted to people not being on the his wave length and also learned when it was best to hold back. Mycroft took pride in his ability to blend in and charm; his brother hated him for it and chose to do the exact opposite. When they were alone together he would often encourage his brother's knack to notice even the most peripheral of details and solve the most difficult of puzzles. He'd sometimes take Sherlock out with him, to parks and high streets, and they'd sit playing games that involved deducing elements of each passer-by's life. Even though they were both naturally gifted it took years of practice to get their minds as finely tuned as they were now. Mycroft did his best to help his brother along, often under the guise of him wanting Sherlock to live up to family standards.

("You expect me to believe _that_?_" "_Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. You'd do well to remember that Sherlock.")

The problem came when they were with other people, such as during family gatherings. While Mycroft would notice all and yet keep his mouth shut, all the while playing the perfect son, Sherlock would always point out what he could see. Many of the guests didn't take him seriously (except his _victim_ who knew fine well Sherlock was telling the truth). They thought he was merely attention seeking, and Mother (and Father, when he was at home) would drag him to one side and tell him to behave. ("Why can't you be more like Mycroft? Look at the example he is setting.") Naturally Sherlock didn't behave and, when their parents had finally had enough of him offending the majority of people in the room with those stories he _makes up,_ they would send him to bed. It was at this point that he'd turn to Mycroft to back him up ("Tell them! You can see it too. You know I'm right.") and all Mycroft would do is mimic the disappointed, slightly aghast faces of everyone else in the room.

Hurt. Betrayal. Resentment. Anger. He got used to seeing these emotions in his brother's eyes.

When it appeared that Sherlock was not going to go grow out of his troublesome behaviour their mother turned to therapy. (At Father's insistence of course, he had always had less patience with his youngest son but Mommy loved her little angel.) None of the psychiatrists lasted long. Not because of Sherlock but because of Mother, every time she'd be told the same things (Lack of empathy... manipulative behaviour... poor impulse control... sociopath). They were wrong. Everyone was wrong. Sherlock was her sweet little angel who would sit by her and play the violin (The violin was Mommy's favourite instrument). Mycroft sat by and watched. He understood his brother better than anyone, he could have intervened. He never did.

Mycroft was at university when he got the call from his mother; Father and her had had yet another row about sending Sherlock away to a school that dealt with these sort of... behavioural problems. This time the argument had ended with father packing his bags, he couldn't take it anymore. When the family gathered for the annual Christmas party that year there was one topic of that dominated most people's conversations. Sherlock was officially the wayward son, the black sheep of the family. Over the years Sherlock had been spending less time at these family gatherings, usually wandering off and, surprisingly, trying to keep his mouth shut. From that year onwards he would shut himself in his room with his violin and books every time Christmas came around. Yes, Mycroft could have intervened. He probably could have stopped most of this from happening. He could have stood up for his brother. He could have made the family understand. He could have spared his mother some tears.

("You know how it always upset Mommy.")

After Mycroft had left university, and got his job with the government, he rarely ever saw his brother. However he did get regular phone calls from his mother. At times there was something in the tone of her voice, like she wanted to ask something and was considering how to say it. This tone would become even more evident whenever he asked about Sherlock. It was a few months after Sherlock had moved out when she finally started voicing her concerns. ("Please, you're the only one who can talk to him on his level... he'll listen to you. You can reason with him" "He's not answering his phone now. I called the university... they say he hasn't been going to his lectures" "I just don't know what to do anymore." "Please, Mycroft, do something.") Through his phone he would hear the sobs of a world weary woman who had watched her family fall apart and the scatter. Father couldn't deal with what his son was, Mother couldn't accept that there was anything wrong and Mycroft knew everything and did nothing.

He was 30 when his mother died. It took him 5 days to contact Sherlock. During that time he had spoken with the solicitors about inheritance and other legal matters. To say his mother's will was something Mycroft had not been expecting would be an understatement. She had split her estate between the two brothers but she had given Mycroft full control over Sherlock's part. All of this was explained in a letter. A letter accompanied with evidence of all the things his mother had been holding back from him. Her diaries detailed everything; there were copies of court summons stuffed in the back, evidence of a growing drug problem, details of how she had bribed Sherlock's schools on numerous occasions to stop him from being expelled, how Sherlock would sometimes go days without food or sleep, how he would stop speaking and one account of an overdose that almost killed him. (How did he manage to miss all this? He was his older brother for Christ's sake.)

That was the day Mycroft finally began to intervene.

People often say that Mycroft Holmes is one of the most dangerous men you'll ever meet. In no situation does this statement ring more true than when he is faced with a threat to his younger brother. He ruined their relationship once, he is just starting to rebuild it now, and he has no intention of losing him yet... Even if Sherlock is a petulant child.

_Did I leave you behind?_

_Did I steal from your side?_

_I still love..._

_I still love you_

_Brother of mine._


End file.
